Epilogue

The light in my quarters was low. We had just received our first supply ship from Gaia. I had requested some furniture, a case of wine and some port, a half-decent wardrobe, and – laugh if you will – two thousand unfinished wooden pieces and all the twine, paints and asundry accessories I needed to construct a brand new Spanish galleon. It was my most ambitious modeling project to date. After everything I had been through, building the most intricate model ship I had ever seen, much less attempted myself, seemed like true child’s play.

My work table before me was covered with these pieces and materials, as the first movement of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 20 in D Minor alternately swayed and jaunted throughout my small room.

As I sketched out on paper my overall construction strategy, I reflected on the incredible experiences I had undergone. I remembered standing on that Earth street, what seemed like years ago but was really only weeks, believing with utter horror and shame that I had lost all my money to an alien flim-flam man. I recalled being stalked and harassed by Colette Thornbush, a woman I thought was an authorized intelligence official working on important government business, when in fact she was a revolutionary trying to overthrow it.

And it occurred to me that the person I had thought conned me had been the real thing. And the person who I thought was a legitimate authority who could help me turned out to be a manipulating, if well-intentioned fraud. And yet it had somehow all worked out. Admittedly, not so well for Geelan, and I would carry that regret to my grave. But I was sure that in this paradox of truth there was a profound reflection on life itself…I just hadn’t figured it out yet.

The other thing that kept spinning in my head was how I had reacted when I first saw Geelan being escorted into the Atlas rimonium mining facility on Gaia. It had stunned me then, and I had come up with several possible explanations for it. One scenario was that there was no connection at all. Another was a scenario that made the most logical sense. A third scenario I came up with was one I didn’t believe, and a fourth scenario was one that I did believe. In the end, it was a fifth scenario that that was true. What does that tell us about our perception? We can perceive no connection at all, we can perceive the logical answer, we can perceive the believable and unbelievable. And yet it is entirely possible that the truth is none of them, that it is beyond them. This was another deep meaning which said something about life in general. But like my other mental musing, it was one I had yet to fully comprehend.

In the end, it had been one hell of a time. I had been wrong about a lot of things, and the people I had encountered had sometimes told the truth, and sometimes not. Some had wanted to help me, and some had wanted to use me. All had been successful. And yet in spite of them, in spite of myself, it had all worked out.

Again, I felt the regret for Geelan. The one gift I could give him beyond the grave was the name of our little mining enterprise…the Geelan Mining Facility on Matthias III. Okay, it wasn’t exactly an inspiring name, but it bore the stamp of the person for whom it mattered most, the person who had given it, and me, new life.

Before Bogg Rhul had departed, I had asked him to see if Geelan had any family. I wanted to share the largesse of Geelan’s legacy with them. And who knows? Perhaps the family even had a smart, young hatchling that enjoyed the geological and mineral mysteries of the earth, and would want to learn the trade from my crusty, jaded hands.

My reverie was interrupted by a soft door chime. I set down my absent sketching and went to the door. It slid open to reveal Major Brianna Chesney, in full battle gear, flanked by two husky soldiers standing guard over a large and tall metal box.

Chesney saluted unnecessarily. “Sir, we found this in Atlas’ construction staging area. We don’t know what it is, or what to do with it. Based on your professional knowledge, we thought you could give us some guidance on how to proceed.”

I didn’t know why they hauled it all the way to my quarters to ask me about it, but I was eminently pleased that they did. What a marvelous convenience they had done me. It was so pleasant to be well treated for once.

Chesney stepped aside so I could get a better view of the thing. I stepped closer, and the soldiers carefully removed the top quarter of the container.

And my jaw dropped.

I was looking at a carefully maintained museum case, the contents of which brought tears to my eyes. I gazed upon the ancient print, penned that year by Herman Melville himself.

“...when a man suspects any wrong, it sometimes happens that if he be already involved in the matter, he insensiby strives to cover up his suspicions even from himself.”

I took a breath. I had been involved in some very wild and confusing circumstances over these last several weeks, and if there was one wrong matter I was ‘already involved in,’ it was that of not trusting Geelan when he first came to me. Of not believing in his conviction in the sensitivity of what he shared with me, which led to the loss of his life. And finally, of not believing in myself, not believing that someone would trust me so dearly and share with me such good fortune.

I resolved in that moment to not cover up my suspicions about these things. I acknowledged them fully inside, and I committed to keeping them at the forefront of my mind for the future. I absently waved the soldiers into my quarters, where they carried my precious museum piece to a natural showcase position against the wall. I looked back to see a broad smile on Chesney’s lips.

Perhaps I could trust myself. Perhaps I could trust in the goodness of my future. Perhaps even in the goodness of the woman standing before me. In what we might be able to build together. I had never seriously pursued a romantic relationship, but that had been my cynicism talking. My fear of trust, me refusal to believe that the universe just might have something really wonderful out there for me. Maybe I was wrong about my love life, just like I had been wrong about Geelan.

The soldiers passed back out into the corridor, their moving job done, and Chesney dismissed them. She looked back at me, eager to measure my joy at her little surprise. “It came in with the supply ship,” she explained. “A thank-you present from Ma’am Colette and the General.”

I nodded, taking into my gaze Brianna’s full, delicious figure. I did love Moby Dick, but Herman Melville was several hundred years dead. A live, red-blooded woman was standing right in front of me. “Care to join me for dinner tonight?” I asked her gamely.

Her posture straightened ever so slightly with a practiced, professional distance. “Business or pleasure?” she asked carefully.

“Pleasure, my dear. Pure, unadulterated pleasure.”

Her eyes went a bit wide, but she managed to keep her composure. “Careful now,” she said. “I can kill a man with one strike.”

“And I can kill a yak from fifty yards away. With mind bullets.” She looked at me. “That’s telekinesis, sweetheart. If you know telekinesis, raise my hand.”

She laughed uncertainly, and began stepping away. “I’m off-duty at eighteen hundred hours,” she managed.

I smiled softly, and leaned coyly against the door frame. “Wear something seductive.”

She chuckled again, still uncertainly. “I’ve got two outfits. Clean fatigues and dirty ones.”

I sighed. “Wear the dirty ones and you can shower when you get here.”

She laughed more certainly this time. “Do you always come on this strong?”

“Only when I’m feeling insecure. Eighteen hundred hours. Don’t be late.”

“I can see this assignment is going to be the nonstop adventure I signed on for.”

I smiled at her. “I hope you never leave.”

I blew a daring kiss at her back and closed the door.

Mozart’s concerto. A glass of wine. Two thousand small pieces of wood. An untouchable piece of literature. And a date with a chesty girl who shot assault rifles and wore combat boots for a living.

Truly, I never imagined life could be so good.